


to the end of a dream

by dahkani



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fuck Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Qrow uses the staff to revive Clover, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22448581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahkani/pseuds/dahkani
Summary: When Qrow's world fell to pieces, he saw her in the shadows.( Post Chapter 12 Fix-It fic. Qrow takes the staff from James and uses it to lower Atlas and, more importantly, revive Clover. )
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 137





	to the end of a dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. Chapter 12 hurt, to say the least. So I wrote a fix-it fic. This is remarkably self-indulgent, definitely not canon compliant, and completely unfiltered raw venting in the form of a fic. I didn't edit this at all so if it's far less refined than my other works, now you know why.
> 
> I'm just putting it out here now because I think people might like it now rather than later.
> 
> ...Please enjoy.

When Qrow’s world fell to pieces, he saw her dancing in the shadows. Salem. He saw her in the darkness creeping in around them, heard her laugh howling in the wind, saw all the carnage she had wrought written on the face of Tyrian.

“Clover, Clover, hang on, just, please, Clover - not you too.”

He fell by his side, the snow crushing underneath his weight. Powerless to stop cruel fate from taking that which he’d been foolish enough to love. There were no words sweet enough to take away the pain, no sight beautiful enough to compare to his face. There was nothing for him if not, at least, this. A never-ending life of torment. A bringer of doom, ill-fate, destruction. Nothing more. 

His last words hung in the air like a noose. “Good luck.”

Luck had never been kind to him.

Life had never been colder than the end of winter. Even as sunlight spilled onto the sky like paint yet to dry. The world had gone to hell and dragged Clover down with it. Down to where he could never reach.

Down. His eyes drifted to Atlas, so high up in the sky.

James. The staff. His senseless plan, all for a few more months of a lucky few who got the privilege of surviving. As always, Qrow’s heart fell with the luckless and the outcasts.

He grabbed Kingfisher. Harbinger felt… dirty. He grabbed the pin, mulling it over in his hands. The blood still wet, staining his fingers. It was all his hopes rolled into one. He pushed it into his pocket. And when he next looked at the sky, it came quickly rushing towards him, wind ruffling his feathers as he soared up into the violet blues. He flew faster than he’d ever flown before, risking any sort of injury to get there faster. There was no telling if his plan would work. But even if it wouldn’t, James couldn’t have the staff. His plan couldn’t come to pass. One life was too much already.

And if he could somehow save that one life…

He touched down in Atlas, just outside the academy. It was bone-chillingly silent. He had no idea what had happened to Ruby, Yang, all the others. He prayed they were okay, too. He’d hunt down anyone who had harmed so much as a hair on any of their heads.

Tears streamed down his face, a never-ending deluge of emotions, even when his body felt hollow and destroyed. He resisted the urge to break down, fall to his feet, and let that darkness win. Clover had done too much for him to fall to that low ever again. He had come too far to let it fall. This wasn’t the first loss he’d had to deal with. 

But he’d make damn sure it was the last.

James would regret showing him the way to the relic. To the vault. He threw open the doors to the elevator, practically breaking the keypad when he thumbed in the numbers. It moved slow. Terrifyingly slow. As if each second wasn’t another second with Clover’s body left in the snow. The tears threatened to come back. He pushed them down. Cling to that one last hope, trust in love, and let it be your guide.

Love was what pushed him forward. Nothing else.

When the elevator opened, he saw James and Winter, standing at the entrance to the open vault. James had the relic in his hands, a judge moments away from handing a death sentence to all of the innocent lives on Remnant. All so she could be kept away for a few months more. Pure cowardice.

They looked shocked to see him, and he saw the briefest flicker of concern flash on both of their faces, until they hardened like stone against him. 

“Qrow Branwen, you are under arrest.” Winter stepped forward, a hand moments away from unsheathing her blade. “Please do not res-”.

She fell quiet when Qrow stepped out of the elevator, further into the light, and brandished Kingfisher, pulling it off his waist. Alarm broke their poker faces, as if they truly gave a damn. If they cared, it wouldn’t have come to this. 

“What… happened, Qrow?” James asked. His voice had the audacity to tremble over his name. Qrow felt his entire body tremble, hands shake, an unending scream that was threatening to burst out at any moment. But in stark contrast to how he felt… when he spoke, the words were delivered with a bone-chilling neutrality.

“He’s dead. Tyrian killed him.” He spat the man’s name like it was pure filth. “Because he was too busy trying to bring me in.”

The shock on both of their faces didn’t make him sad, sympathetic, or remorseful. It gave him a sadistic glee. He felt vengeful. He felt enraged. As if either of the two would dare act like they truly cared.

Clover could have been anyone to them, and they’d react all the same. As always in Atlas, the person didn’t matter. It was the role they could serve like a cog in a machine that gave them their worth. Clover had chased that worth like a wolf chasing meat. He had followed it all the way to the graveyard.

That wasn’t his fault. Qrow blamed only the man and proud little nation that had instilled it in him. That order mattered more than justice. That a huntsman was an instrument, a means to an end, rather than an end all in themselves. Clover had done only what he’d been conditioned to by a system that didn’t care if he lived or died so long as he played his part, even if it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” James dared to say. It was a lie. Qrow knew it was a lie. He told himself that as many times as it took to keep himself standing. “He was a good man. He will be remembered.”

“He deserves more than to be remembered,” Qrow growled, a threat as he eyed the relic. The two didn’t quite catch on; after all, nobody had any idea if a staff could resurrect the dead. But as the relic most closely linked to the God of Light - the God of Creation… he would try anything to see light in those eyes again. A million things he’d thought he had tomorrow to say. When things were easier and quieter. He wanted it back. He didn’t care if it was selfish. At least some good would come out of his selfish actions in the end.

“These things happen in war, Qrow. He knew that. I’m sorry.”

Like a lion roaring, he yelled, a spark catching fire in a heartbeat and blazing forth, slamming against the door of the elevator with his fist.

“LIAR!”

A deafening, soul-crushing silence.

“If you were really sorry, if you really cared, you would never have let it come to this! A good man’s blood is on your hands because he trusted you with his life. And you sacrificed him like a pawn. Our lives aren’t yours to control!”

“He gave me his life when he joined the military, Qrow. He would be proud to die for his kingdom.”

“That’s the problem. He would throw down his life so you could take one step forward and five steps back. You’re not some great leader, James. You’re not some high and mighty power. You’re nothing to her. We’re all nothing to her. This isn’t you against her. This is her against all of us. We all lost the moment we put a bit of trust in you, and you used us as a sacrifice. Remnant was doomed the moment you considered yourself apart from the rest of us. You did her job for her.”

James had stood tall and stared. As if he were waiting for him to finish. Probably some bullshit running through his head about honour, Qrow reckoned. 

He turned on his heel, facing away from him. “Winter.” 

“Yes sir,” she nodded, unsheathing her weapon and pointing it at Qrow. Her eyes were narrowed with vicious intent. 

“Ah, right, Ironwood’s personal lap dog,” he spat. He readied Kingfisher. There was no need to pretend there was a chance in hell Qrow was going to go peacefully. “Let’s settle the score.”

A snow-white glyph shimmered behind her, and she shot forward like a bullet fired from a gun. Faster than at Beacon, he applauded. 

But Qrow was a man with nothing left to lose. No restraint. His wish to work with Atlas had died with Clover. Her blade pierced the memory of his throat; and Qrow flew behind her, transforming mid flight and using the momentum to deliver a powerful kick to her stomach that sent her crashing against the elevator. 

He landed and immediately started running towards James; the staff was glowing a terrifying white in his hands. Winter intercepted him, descending from the sky in front of him, striking with intent to kill. Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue, and she gestured towards him; he felt the energy in the air bristling, and instinctively rolled, a lightning strike where he had just been standing.

He grit his teeth in frustration. Right, a Maiden.

Switching strategies, he knew he’d have to subdue Winter before he had a chance in hell of getting to Ironwood and the staff. But when he stepped forward, the entire world seemed to shake; his eyes widened in fear.

James was using the staff to lift Atlas.

Qrow brandished Kingfisher like a whip, the hooked edge flying out towards Winter who stepped to the side and dodged it. She readied her blade as if to slice the rope in two, and Qrow smirked. She was as predictable as always, even with all her new toys. 

Everyone fell back onto instinct. But it was something special, Qrow thought, to have the power of a Maiden and still default to her weapon. Trained so much it had hardened in her heart and become a flaw.

He fired from where he stood, a punch to her jaw sending her crashing to the floor before she even had a chance to see it coming. To her credit, she got to her feet just in time to avoid the crack of Kingfisher’s whip, but the second attack was already coming. She unleashed her magic in a pulse, the force of it blowing Kingfisher back towards Qrow. And as luck would have it, it struck him in the face, leaving a cut his Aura would eventually heal on his cheek.

Luck.

Qrow smirked a devilish smile at the idea coming to life in his mind at the perfect time. His Aura crackled around him like lightning, and something changed in the air. The lights in the vault were flickering on and off, the air itself feeling dark and foreboding. It felt like malice hanging in the air, so potent you could taste it. The lights went off as Qrow jumped forward. Instead of carrying through with his punch, he turned into a crow mid-attack, curving around.

The lights came on again. A wall of ice had appeared to keep him out, and Winter was catching her breath against the sudden shift in the environment. She sensed movement as Qrow transformed back and came rushing towards her, parrying Kingfisher’s blow with her saber.

But in the battle of wills, it was Qrow’s emotion that pushed him onward, screaming his anger like it would make him stronger. He connected with the floor, and spun on the spot, a brutal swing of Clover’s weapon connecting with her feet, taking them out from underneath her. A move Clover had used on him just minutes before now.

He swung downwards, punching her and sending her crashing against the floor. Her Aura crackled immediately; and Qrow stopped. No more blood had to be spilled today. 

Winter had never been his equal. Even back in Beacon, he’d kept her at bay without his scythe. Her Aura had been damaged - no doubt from Cinder. She had no real experience with her Maiden powers. And Qrow’s semblance was unleashed from the cage he kept it in, dooming everything she tried to do from the start. Perhaps it was bad luck in itself her Aura had cracked so early. He’d never pushed the limits of his semblance. How much could it bend reality? 

No. Clover wouldn’t want this. Qrow didn’t want it, either. His rage had sent him down a dark enough path already. His semblance was a curse.

He shook his head, sighing, eyes falling shut. He stepped over her, gently. And turned to James, who faced him, Due Process in his remaining good arm. Qrow’s eyes hooded over in anger, shaking. This wasn’t the James he knew.

“You’re scared.” Qrow said. Whether it was of him or of Salem he didn’t say. Wouldn’t both work?

“I have come this far. I am saving who we can. I can’t let you ruin it now, Qrow,” James said, genuine emotion cracking in his voice as he raised his gun at an old friend. He went to fire a shot, but Qrow easily deflected it.

“You’re running. We beat her by working together.”

“We CAN’T beat her. She can’t be stopped. We can only ensure she can’t destroy all of Remnant.”

Another step. Another bullet. It fell to the wayside like the last.

“We can’t kill her. We can hold her off.”

“She just gets stronger, Qrow! We can barely handle her now.” Fear creeping in, even as he tried to hold it back.

Qrow didn’t deflect the next shot. He dodged it by turning his body to the side in the nick of time. 

“We get stronger too. You’re dooming all of Remnant to face her. You’re taking another kingdom away from a crumbling world rather than fixing it.”

As he spoke, his face had turned to a snarl. This was getting nowhere, and only serving to rile him up further. James needed help and instead stubbornly dug his feet into the ground and refused it. 

James lowered his gun, just slightly, for a moment. A falter in his resolve. It didn't last. “Qrow… please, don’t make me do this.”

Qrow didn’t respond. They were inches away from each other now. James’ normally steady hand was shaking, but still pointing at his chest.

“I don’t want to lose you too, James.”

Click.

The gun failed to fire, a deep red running across it like electricity, mirroring Qrow’s Aura as it broke like a mirror. James’ eyes widened in shock as it clicked in his head after brief confusion. His finger twitched to fire again, but not fast enough.

Qrow shot Kingfisher forward, knocking the gun out of James’ hands as the curved tip soared. He reached forward, grabbing Kingfisher’s wire, throwing it around James’ torso. Like Clover had done to Tyrian just an hour before. He used all that was remaining of his strength, roaring as he pulled it taut, sweeping James off his feet and launching him directly onto the cold stone floor. 

The man’s Aura shattered on impact, the breath leaving his body before he even settled on the ground. 

“I’m sorry it came to this, James.”

Qrow stepped forward, the relic floating in the air in front of them, suspended. Without even a moment’s hesitation, he snatched it from its place, the colour in its crystal fading. It defaulted back to its old purpose after being interrupted; Atlas, instead of going upwards, remained suspended in place.

No more death.

“We’ll be back. To face her together.”

It was a promise.

He didn’t turn to look at James. In a burst of dim red light, a single black feather was all that was left to remind him of the catastrophe about to befall Atlas.

_Hold on, Clover,_ Qrow thought. _I’ll save you._

Spots of red against pure white snow and a shipwreck close to Mantle told him where to land. When his feet touched the ground again, they crumbled as he faced the weight of what he was doing. 

But he had come this far. He had to see it through. 

As he had many times before, he pulled himself to his feet. And when he raised his head to finally look forward, he saw Robyn, eyes wide with shock and horror, staring at Clover’s body.

“Stand back,” he growled.

“Qrow?!” She exclaimed, head snapping like a whip to look at him once he spoke. Her eyes were wild with bewilderment, begging for an explanation. “Did you ki-?”

“Tyrian,” he interrupted, barely containing his rage at such a baseless accusation. At such a senseless question. Like he could ever kill the man whose eyes held all the stars of the night sky. Everything good had died alongside him.

He placed Kingfisher beside Clover’s body. It was his. It only felt right. Careful hands gripped the Staff of Creation, and he turned away from the body, as much as it hurt his heart.

The staff was an interesting relic. Merely holding it had an impact on him; he could feel a weight on his mind, peering into his thoughts, easily seeing all the deepest and darkest parts of himself. At the mere thought of using it, it spoke in his mind. But it was no stranger speaking to him. The staff’s voice was his own.

_Qrow Branwen,_ it said. To him and only to him. _What is your wish?_

His mouth ran dry. He pointed at Atlas, and said aloud. “Bring Atlas down. As fast as possible but without causing any harm.”

The staff didn’t wait for confirmation. It flickered to life in a white flash so pure it made the snow around them look grey in comparison. And as if he’d spoken reality into being, the kingdom of Atlas began to descend. 

“Qrow…” Robyn muttered behind him, breathless as Atlas began its long journey to reunite with Mantle. It felt as if the entire world were staring, all the stars in the universe focused on this one point in time. A monumental change in history. When one man’s heart toppled a kingdom.

It took longer than Qrow’s heart would have liked, but he forced himself to remain patient. No more deaths. And when Atlas settled back into the crater it had risen from, shaking the very earth they stood on, the staff coughed like an empty lighter, finally growing dim.

Robyn opened her mouth to speak. A glare from Qrow as he turned around silenced her. It was finally time.

He reached out to that weight on his mind one more time, and it responded as quickly as it had before.

_Qrow Branwen,_ it said _. What is your wish?_

“Bring back Clover Ebi,” he said. And he’d swear it on every god he knew that he had tried to stay strong when he spoke. But his words cracked as they fell from his lips, wrenched into sobs as his mouth formed the syllables of his name. The staff understood.

_Clover Ebi,_ it said. _Your most beloved?_

Qrow’s eyes widened as his heart skipped two beats at once.

“Yes. Him. I’ll do anything.”

_As I have seen,_ it said. _Speak of him._

“What?”

_Speak of him, and it shall be done._

Silence, as a stunned Qrow processed what was said. Speak of him?

It wasn’t hard to think of memories to share.

“His face,” he began. “When he won. It lit up like the sun.”

It was so little. Yet already, the staff began to glow. And that was all the encouragement he needed.

“He was so proud. Never arrogant. There was a shine in his eyes every time he smiled. Like he was just grateful to be alive. His eyes when they looked at me. They were brighter than every star in the sky.”

The staff glittered a golden light. Golden, the same colour of the God of Light. Qrow recognized it. He wrenched his eyes shut, focusing on the memories Clover had left him with. The memory of him.

“His devotion. To his kingdom, even when it didn’t deserve it. To his team. How hard he worked, every second of every day, to be something better than he was before. How he drove me to be better, do better.”

Robyn stepped closer to him, a hand on his shoulder in comfort. More tears came down his face, as if he hadn’t already cried enough. But the glow on the staff grew more and more intense, brighter by the minute. It wrapped around his body like mist on an Autumn night, golden like sunlight.

“I remember how he looked when he laughed. The sound of his laugh. The way his breath hitched in his chest whenever we touched, and he thought I never noticed. I remember the night we danced in his room, stumbling over each other, until we fell on his bed. The first time I stayed in his bed. I remember every time he ever looked at me like there was something worth seeing in me.”

The crystal of the staff began to glow, and a new tender light enveloped him. A gentle green.

“I remember the first day we met. How I thought I’d hate him. I remember that day in the mines, when he learned about my semblance. And smiled. Nobody’s ever smiled before.” Mixed into the sadness was an irreplaceable, reverent fondness. “I remember thinking to myself that it was finally safe to love.”

The light grew more intense. Unbeknownst to either Qrow nor Robyn, the faint beginnings of life sparked in his eyes.

“I remember all the times I thought to myself ‘I love you’ but never said it. I remember all the times I almost dared to kiss his lips. I remember how he held me close to him, and how all my fears were gone, replaced with hope in his arms. How I felt lighter than air.”

Blood evaporated under the heat of that golden and green light. Miraculously, as if Qrow’s fervent prayers had reached the gods themselves, the hole in his chest began to seal itself, drawn back together like the ground meeting the sky in the distant horizon. Robyn couldn’t help but gasp, yet Qrow continued.

“I remember loving him more than I’ve ever loved anybody.”

In his memories, Clover lived.

Brighter than any star in the sky, the Staff of Creation shined, culminating light until it exploded in a of brilliance, traces of starlight falling to the ground as the sun rose. The soft green light worked its way into Clover’s body. The golden light fragmented and fell to the ground like autumn leaves. Then, it went dark.

Qrow stood like he were frozen in time for one brief moment. The staff fell from his hands. Fear held him in place. Love set him free.

He fell to his knees beside Clover, eyes searching for a sign of life, movement, anything at all. He pressed his head against Clover’s chest, eyes widening in a frenzy, begging for his salvation. He held his breath, waited for a heartbeat, hoping against all hope.

Nothing had prepared him for the feeling of Clover’s heart thumping in his chest, or the triumphant sound of his struggled gasp for air, jolting back to life as if waking from a nightmare.

“You’re alive,” Qrow croaked, voice weak and feeble, eyes shrouded with mirth.

Clover’s face tightened in confusion as he gulped down air, glancing around the snow - his own blood dying it red.

Qrow reached out and pulled him into a hug, the tears from his eyes threatening to seep into Clover’s skin. 

“It’s okay, Clover,” he said breathlessly, over and over again. As many times as it would take. “It’s okay. You’re alive.”

“I’m… alive?” 

Qrow didn’t answer at first, tightening his grip on the man and refusing to let go, unable to stop the unending flow of tears.

“You’re alive. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Without missing a beat, Clover smiled, pulling Qrow closer into him and wrapping an arm around him in comfort, letting his lover cry his forsaken fears away.

“If you’re here, then that’s all that matters.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there will be a Chapter Two going up to deal with the immediate fallout and provide more fluff.
> 
> ...And if you're at all curious about my other fics, I'll update A Fair Fight in due time. Chapter 4 was intended to be angsty, so... I put it on hold for now.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Stay strong.


End file.
